


let's rob a bank

by angryjane



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Banter, Could Be Canon, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crowley Has a Heart, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Partners in Crime, Random & Short, Short, Short One Shot, Softie Crowley (Good Omens), That's it, This Is STUPID, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), definitely, he's a softie, that's the fic, they rob a bank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-12 02:38:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angryjane/pseuds/angryjane
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale rob a bank-- but for a good cause!





	let's rob a bank

**Author's Note:**

> i had this idea at work last night so here. take it.

“This is a bad idea. ”

” I know, angel. But do you have any better ideas ?“ 

Aziraphale hesitated.  “Well not exactly-“

“So here we are.  “

'Here' was the biggest back in London, at half past two in the morning.  It was empty, of course, having closed at eight, and the brick walls and faded glass windows gave it an eerie edge.  Crowley stood in front of the large double doors, arms spread wide. 

Behind him, hesitant and looking all the heavens like a caged animal, Aziraphale blinked and whipped his head back and forth, eyes wide and darting from one tree to the corner store across the way to the slow-rolling limo down the block as if everything were a suspect. They were n’t , of course—suspects, that  is. Because, as Aziraphale could not  _ seem _ to stress enough to his partner in crime,  _ literal partner in crime— _ they we’re about to rob a bank.

Aziraphale, am actual angel, from actual heaven, was about to commit a crime. And worst of all, he couldn’t fund it in hi self to feel all that bad about it. That bit was definitely Crowley’s dastardly influence. 

( “It’s for a good cause!” Had insisted the demon, “ They stole money from a fucking orphanage! Think about the children!”)

(And  when put that way, how could Aziraphale allow himself to stand idly by? He didn’t work for You There any longer, he reminded himself, so he didn’t have to play by their rules. He’d play by his own. Or Crowley’s.)

“So, I’m going to  disable the alarm system on the doors long enough for you to open them-“ The demon was saying now.

“ How in Heaven are you going to do that?” 

Crowley squinted through his sunglasses, then pulled them off so the angel could feel the full force of his glare.  Maintaining the eye contact, he raised an arm and snapped  lithe , nimble fingers—the kind just absolutely _ made _ for evildoing—and  there was  a click of the locks, and a beep as the automated alarm shut itself off. 

“Right.”  Aziraphale coughed, straightened his suit, and, feeling amazingly obtuse, moved toward the door.  bu t then it occurred to him— ”Do you suppose they have those… what are they called, lasers? You know, the thin red lines in the movies. That you have to dodge and jump.” He  ma de a motion with his hands, a motion meant to be dodging and jumping, but most certainly did not look like dodging and jumping, and rather looked like something much,  _ much _ more obscene . Crow l ey winced, shoving his glasses back over his eyes.

“Just come on.”

In through the heavy doors, across marble floors, and to the counter. It was wide and oaken, and Crowley dragged a nail through the dust on one side, raising an eyebrow at the angel. 

“Now what?”  Aziraphale prompted, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to the demon. “You’re the demon here, you must have more experience in this than I.”

“...Ngh.” Squawked Crowley. “Not quite.”

“What? I thought you said you’d done this before?”

“In  _ theory...” _

_ “ _ How do you rob a bank in  _ theory _ , Crowley? For heaven’s sakes. _ ” _

_ “Hell’s _ sakes.” Crowley automatically goes to correct, then remembers he doesn’t have any obligation to anymore. He scowled at his angel, eyebrows  scrunched and nose tucked up, “Anyways, it can’t be that hard. I’ve influenced plenty of people into doing it.”

“Did they get away with it?”

“Sometimes.”

“ _ Sometimes _ ? It’s a wonder I even agreed to come at all. We’re going to get arrested.” 

“And what exactly are they going to do to us, an angel and a demon who’ve defied Heaven and Hell and lived to tell the tale?”

Aziraphale sputtered a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “Nothing, I suppose. Let’s just get on with it already.” And then, quieter, “Lousy prat.”

“What was that, doll?”

“Nothing, Crowley.” He smiled a tad too sweetly, and Crowley narrowed his eyes again, but turned away nonetheless, strolling over to the vault as if he were on a morning walk, rather than about to possibly destroy the British economy. 

He examined it, hands behind his back and leaning his weight in towards the giant metal door; it looked like something out of a cartoon to Aziraphale. (Yes, he knew what cartoons were.)

“This won’t do.” 

Aziraphale started. “What? What is it? Is something wrong? We should go.”

Crowley huffed a  laugh . “No, I meant-” He snapped his fingers. “Better.”

“...What is this music, Crowley?”

“It’s Mission Impossible, of course.” Then, at the angel’s blank stare: “The movie? About spies? They play this song during all the sneaky scenes.”

“ Is this a sneaky scene?”

“Of course it is; we’re stealing from a fucking bank!”

“Right, right.”  Aziraphale dithered nervously, “That we are.”

Crowley crouched in front of the lock, eying it. It was quite a shitty lock, all things considering: battered with age and misuse, sleepy clerks missing the keyhole, the  pin pad nearly smashed in. 

“How many combinations are there with the four numbers 3, 7, 9, and 1?” He wondered aloud, dragging a finger across the ruined buttons. These four showed the worst of the wear: used often, it seemed.

“ Er ...Twenty-four?” 

“Right, well, pick any combination of those, angel.”

“What?”

“I’m sure whatever you pick will  miraculously work out just fine. Things seem to go that way when you’re around. You’re a good luck charm.”

“I’m- you- I'm not a charm for you to throw around willy-nilly-”

“Oh, I won’t throw you around, unless you’re into that kind of thing, angel.” A shrug, a wink. “You’re  _ my _ good luck charm.”

Silence for the barest of moments, while Crowley’s fingers danced on his leg and  Aziraphale stared. “...9317.”

“Right.” And then the fingers were sliding across the keys, and there was a beep and a green  light and the vault stole open. 

“We’re in.”

\----------------------

Later, sprawled on Crowley’s expensive couch,  Aziraphale pouted at the demon. 

“Don’t you think it was too easy?” 

“Nothing’s too easy, angel.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry about it, love.  I told you, you’re my good luck charm. ”

**Author's Note:**

> comments would be lovely!
> 
> [come be a disaster with me!!!!](https://discord.gg/)


End file.
